What Makes You


What makes you see the globe a ball
To bounce, the sky not half as tall,
Each cloud a game, each smile a joy,
And every living thing a toy?

What makes you see the universe
Awaken in a baby’s first
Heart-clenching and earth-shattering cry,
In all that lights a baby’s eye?

What makes you see with sudden sight
That wrong is wrong and right is right,
Just by one glimpse of sleeping child–
With all its life yet undefiled?

What makes you tremble with one touch
Of that wee babe you love–so much,
You’d gladly die the death of two
To keep that baby safe with you?

What makes you blind to all earth’s charms,
To hold a baby in your arms–
Give up on walking free and fair,
To nuzzle heads of baby hair?

What makes you is that baby thing
Who teaches your heart songs to sing
That keep it soft and sweet and true–
This baby that you’ve made makes you.